


hand and heart

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Re-embodied elves, Valinor, mostly pre-Darkening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24794086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Fëanor before his fall...and a little bit of after.A collection of ficlets from tumblr prompts, loosely related to one another. (url:@arofili)
Relationships: Aredhel & Fëanor | Curufinwë, Fëanor | Curufinwë & Turgon of Gondolin, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26
Collections: Dialogue Prompts





	1. FëaNel + "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormXPadme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/gifts).



> I've organized these in roughly chronological order; they weren't written to all be set together, but I think it works if you read them that way. The title refers to Fëanor's "skill of hand" and his heart, present in his relationships :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For an anon :)

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Nerdanel raised an eyebrow. “Absolutely not.”

Fëanáro groaned, burying his face in his hands. It was rare he expressed any sense of shame, and Nerdanel loved to needle him when he did. “Is there anything I can do to convince you…?”

Nerdanel propped one hand on her hip just below her swelling stomach. “Hm…” She made a great show of considering it, then clapped her hands. “Ah! Yes, there is one thing.”

Fëanáro perked up. “Anything, my love!”

“Not having done it in the first place,” she teased, leaning down to kiss his nose.

“ _Ner_ ,” he groaned, grabbing onto her and resting his chin on her belly. “ _Please_ —just don’t tell Nolofinwë?”

“Why would I tell your brother that I caught you stealing his mother’s cake recipe?” she asked, smirking.

“ _Half_ -brother, and it’s not _hers_ , it can’t be, it’s too good for her to have made it—”

“It’s ridiculous, the way you are about her.” Nerdanel’s voice lost its teasing tone. “No, Fëanáro, I won’t tell Nolofinwë. But _you_ should ask the Queen, very politely, if she could teach you how to make the recipe yourself.”

“It’s just cake,” he said stiffly. “I won’t grovel to her for _cake_.”

Nerdanel sighed. She could tell he would not be dissuaded without much effort, and over such a thing as this, was it really worth it to have this fight? No. She would pick her battles.

“Alright, my love,” she said. “But between the two of us, I will _never_ let you forget how much you love Indis’ cooking!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619788060125806592/14-for-f%C3%ABanornerdanel).


	2. Fëanor & Aredhel + "Why are you whispering?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon, who said "I can not think of a single time I have seen these 2 interact, so something new."

“Why are you whispering?” his niece asked in what was perhaps the loudest whisper Fëanáro had ever heard.

“Because,” he hissed back, “I do not want to be heard.”

“But Atya’s right there—”

Fëanáro placed a finger over her lips, looking down at her sternly. “Exactly. I don’t want him to know I’m here.”

“But then why are you talking at all?” Írissë whispered, just slightly softer this time.

“I work better if I let myself talk.” He tried to glare her away, but Nolofinwë’s brat seemed entirely unafraid of him. Drat. It usually worked with her brothers.

“What’re you working on? And why don’t you want Atya to know?”

Fëanáro knew better than to demand she shut up; he had five children of his own, after all, and despite how little he loved them he had watched four younger half-siblings grow to adulthood.

“I am playing a game with your atya,” he murmured, and her eyes lit up. “I am…playing a trick on him.” That was true enough; Nolofinwë would be furious when he realized that Fëanáro had looked through his private journals. But Fëanáro had to know if there was any truth to the rumors about his half-brother’s plans to usurp him. “It’s very important he doesn’t find out.”

Írissë nodded seriously. “I play tricks on my brothers,” she confessed, her voice tolerably quiet now. “They get so _mad_. Turno is so funny when his face goes all read. Is that what you’re doing with Atya?”

“Yes,” Fëanáro agreed. Inspiration, as it often did, struck him. “Írissë, do you want to help me prank your atya?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she squeaked, so soft now he could barely hear her.

Fëanáro grinned. Maybe there was something more to this little girl than being Nolofinwë’s child. He should ask Nerdanel if she was up for trying to have a daughter of their own.

“Excellent,” he said, patting her on the head. “Now—pass me that thin file over there…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619977309762502656/how-about-47-for-feanor-and-arehdel-i-can).


	3. FëaNel + "I don't owe you an explanation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For StormXPadme <3

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

The words hit her like a blow. She stared at him, astonished he could say such a thing, to _her_ , his _wife_. Nerdanel was never one to be cowed into silence, but she was so astonished that she could not find the words to express herself.

Fëanáro did not even have the decency to look up from his work. He was fiddling with some contraption, so small she couldn’t see it with his nimble fingers in the way. She just _stared_ , her world reeling.

She had promised herself, before she had ever met Fëanáro, that if ever a man disrespected her she would leave him. In the beginning Fëanáro had underestimated her, but that was not because she was a nís, simply because _he_ was _Fëanáro_ ; he had grown to respect her and cherish her input, and never once put her down after they settled into their relationship. She would not have married him otherwise.

But here he was, with the _gall_ to dismiss her when she demanded why he would not come home from the workshop. They had seven children, for Eru’s sake; she thought she knew him better than she knew herself. Yes, things had been tense between them of late, but that was because _Fëanáro_ was tense, always ranting about his damned brother and having trouble focusing on anything but his work.

Now Nerdanel wondered if he had been frustrated with _her_ all along.

At last she found her words. “Curufinwë Fëanáro,” she stated, willing her voice not to tremble, “I am your _wife_. You have treated me poorly these past few weeks, and I accounted that to your personal anxieties. Perhaps I was wrong.”

“Go away, Ner,” he snapped, not bothering to even wave a hand in her direction. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“ _No_.” She had never heard herself so furious—her temper was cooler than her fiery husband’s, and it took a long time to simmer, but it had come now to a boil. Suddenly she was remembering all the little things he had been doing over the years, things she had dismissed, things he had apologized for, things she had willed herself to overlook. But they came crashing down on her now as she realized…perhaps Fëanáro did not see her as his equal after all, as he had sworn he would upon their wedding day.

“Explain yourself to me _this instant_ ,” she commanded, “or Aulë help me I will leave this house and take our sons with me.”

 _That_ got his attention. Fëanáro slammed his fist down on his work table, sparks flying from his eyes. Of course, Nerdanel thought bitterly. He would _never_ let her take the boys from him.

“I am master of this house!” he shouted. “I am the High Prince of the Noldor! I am the master craftsman! I am the father of those sons! You _will not_ disrespect me under my own roof! I owe you _nothing_ , Nolofinwë, _nothing_ —”

Nerdanel clenched her fists and took a step back; as much as she loathed to give up ground, it was the only thing that kept her from slapping him. “ _Nolofinwë_?” she demanded. “I am your _wife_! Or have you been sleeping with _him_ too?”

For a moment she thought he would catch afire, his entire hröa consumed by the flame whose name he bore, but all in an instant something broke within him and his fire went out. He slumped forward on his work bench, burying his face in his hands, his skin gone an ashy grey.

Nerdanel could not muster pity within her to comfort him, not then. Yet she remained, still as one of her statues, waiting for him to stop shaking and come back to her. To _explain_.

At last he looked up, his eyes red and tearstained. “Ner,” he rasped, “I’m…I’m sorry.”

Nerdanel mulled over his apology, then nodded curtly. “Explain yourself, then.”

“I will,” he promised. “Oh, Ner…I could not bear it if you left.”

“You could not bear it if I took the boys.” Her tone was flat.

“Of course not,” he said. “But you are half of my soul. If I am the Spirit of Fire, you are what feeds that flame. I need you.”

“If this is your way of explaining yourself, I find it inadequate.” She was still furious, though she would give him another chance.

“I—” His stomach rumbled, and he looked down at it in surprise. “Um.”

Despite herself, Nerdanel sighed. “When was the last time you ate, Fëanáro?”

“…Three days ago.”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Come with me,” she ordered. “I’ll have Carnistir fix you a meal. But then, we will _talk_ , and ensure that you _never_ deny me an explanation again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619969496635031552/ooooh-please-22-i-dont-owe-you-an).


	4. FëaNel + "Prove it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon!  
> I think this one is my favorite of this particular bunch :)

“Prove it,” she had challenged him, and he’d grinned, because _of course he could_. He was Fëanáro Curufinwë, and nothing was impossible if he applied himself.

So the very next morning he brought her what she’d asked for: a perfectly round stone he had polished until it shone, and which sang to her on command, if only she said the password (his name, of course). She stared at his gift, and then him, grudgingly impressed, but that was—of course!—not the end.

“Alright, you’ve showed you have talent in _your_ craft,” she said, “but what about _mine_?”

“I can make anything you can,” he boasted, “just as well.”

“Prove it.” She smirked, and he remembered just how lifelike half her statues were, and then how utterly enchantingly abstract the other half were, and he pondered how to do so.

“Give me a year,” he said, “and I will carve your likeness into stone so that you would think you looked upon yourself in a mirror.”

In the end, it took more than a year to accomplish that feat, but his first attempt was passable enough to win her assistance in learning her craft. By the time she judged his statue of her worthy of his boast, her own skill had far outstripped his, but he had learned to be content with that. She was a sculptor, he a jewelsmith; they would never match each other in their primary pursuits. But in all other things…

“Fëanáro, I…” She looked up at him with a fire in her eyes that rivalled his own. “Of course I want you. Of course I adore you. And I believe you when you say you feel the same. But if we are to _marry_ , I need more.”

“Whatever you want from me,” he said earnestly, because she had become his world, and he could not imagine a life without her in it.

“Not just from you. From myself, also.” She grasped his hand. “I need to know you _love_ me, Fëanáro, in the eternal, endless way we Eldar love.”

“I can prove that,” he whispered, and promised to both her and himself that he would spend the rest of his life proving it if he needed to.

And he _did_ : even as storm and fire raged within him, destroyed his people, sundered them with a sea and a doom so wide and deep he thought he would never see her again, he proved it. Because in the end he came back to her, and he promised her again, and again, and again, and despite their tumultuous lives together his _love_ was always there.

“Must I prove myself to you again?” he asked, kneeling before her after he was granted a new life, a new chance. “I will. I always will.”

But to his astonishment the woman he married raised his chin and kissed him softly upon the lips.

“You already have,” Nerdanel whispered. “Now come, Fëanáro, and let me prove I still believe in you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/619970870765584384/well-if-youre-looking-for-prompts-again-33).


	5. Fëanor & Turgon + "I've missed this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon!  
> This was tough to figure out! I tried and failed to think of a shippy context for them and I couldn’t even justify hatefucking with that opening line, lmao. So I went with gen instead - and that was hard, too, but I think I found the right balance!

“I’ve missed this,” Fëanáro realizes, looking out into the throng of elves that was his family.

Behind him, there is a choking sound. Fëanáro twitches; he hadn’t realized anyone was near enough to hear him.

“You _missed_ this?” Turukáno demands, and Fëanáro grits his teeth. Of course his least favorite nephew was the one who had overheard his sudden admission. “You hate us all. The only reason you’re here is because your mother begged you.”

In the past, the mere mention of his mother would have ignited Fëanáro’s rage. Now, though, with Míriel returned to life and laughing amidst a crowd of her grandchildren, he only rolls his eyes.

“Do not presume to understand my motivations, Turukáno,” he scoffs. “I am here of my own free will. Besides,” he adds, quieter, “if I must give my eldest son away to Indis’ grandchild…well, it is better to melt down the swords with my half…with my brother.”

Turukáno narrows his eyes. “Believe me, I am just as thrilled about my brother’s impending marriage as you,” he says drily. “But I cannot find it in me to believe that Mandos changed you _this_ much, to set aside all your infamous pride.”

“I am still proud.” Fëanáro smiles, teeth glinting in the torchlight. “Proud of my son, of my accomplishments, of my family. But I am not _prideful_ , not the way I was. I was in Mandos far longer than _you_ , Turukáno. I died before you and was returned only after every other soul had their chance at freedom.” He takes a sip of his wine, glancing back to the center of the party, where Maitimo and Findekáno stand hand in hand, joy radiating from them. “I cannot even begrudge your brother my son’s heart, when I see them so happy, not hiding their love for fear of my disapproval.”

“Hm.” Turukáno’s gaze drifts from him to the dancing couple and back. “But—you truly missed this? I do not remember you enjoying yourself at family gatherings like this in your first life. Especially if your outburst at _my_ wedding is any example.”

Fëanáro flushes. “Well, perhaps that was out of line.”

“ _Perhaps_? You took to speculating that any children Elenwë and I produced would more resemble, and I quote, ‘those awful porcelain dolls the Vanyar make,’ and criticizing my wife’s dress simply because my grandmother complimented the embroidery—”

Fëanáro smirks. “I am Fëanáro Þerindion; if anyone knows about embroidery—”

“—it would be Þerindë herself, who is _right there_ ,” Turukáno snaps, pointing to where Míriel rocks Finduilas’ child on her leg as if the little girl is her granddaughter and not Indis’. “ _She_ has no issue with the line of Indis!”

“Like I said, nephew,” Fëanáro says, clapping a hand on his shoulder, “I am melting down my swords. And yes, I _did_ miss these gatherings. Even then, it was a joy to see my children so happy with their cousins and their grandfather.”

At the mention of Finwë, Turukáno sighs. “I wish he could be here.”

“I am working on it,” Fëanáro promises.

Turukáno stares at him, then smiles with bemusement. “Defying the Valar even in your new life. Now _that_ is the Fëanáro I remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rebloggable on tumblr [here](https://arofili.tumblr.com/post/620148618197893120/if-still-available-19-with-turgon-and-f%C3%ABanor).

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


End file.
